


Burn Bright

by xHoodie (firewasntmadetobeheldinhumanskin)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bat Family, Drama, Family Issues, Gen, On Hiatus, Possibly OOC, Rating May Change, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-11 20:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4451645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firewasntmadetobeheldinhumanskin/pseuds/xHoodie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And it started when Jason disappeared for two weeks and, coming back home, found someone else in his place.<br/>
</p><p>
  <i>aka that in which Jason comes back home and finds a replacement. (Or two) [Ok, maybe three]</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. . Jason Todd's got a problem .

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lassasymphonie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassasymphonie/gifts).



> Hey, peeps \o
> 
> So, firstly, English isn't my mother tongue D: which means that my sister (besides tormenting me so I'll write) is who translated this for me :33 and I think that's all ._.  
> Don't be mean to me :D
> 
>  **P.S.:** there'll probably be hints of Jason/Roy through some chapters, but for now romance isn't part of the plot. For now ~o~ also, their ages were changed (Damian and Tim are 15, Jason is 16 and Dick is 17), and the school dates (vacation/classes/subjects) are from my school, which means it's surely not the same it would if it followed most schools. And just so things don't get confusing, their pasts were changed, but will be unraveled as the story goes on.

Three weeks, and Jason still got that horrified look of someone who didn’t take the idea very well. He’s quiet — maybe for the first time in the last six years —, nearly catatonic, and the table is a chaos. Tim laughs loudly from something he’s talking about with Dick and Damian is too busy keeping his scowl to try and get together with the other two. Alfred is the only one who looks _happy_ — truly happy, and not trying to make things better —, and Bruce isn’t present. Todd doesn’t know for sure what’s so amazing about having three new brats in the Wayne Manor, a dog who looks more like a monster and a cat who loves to destroy things. Or maybe just Jason’s things — and that’s why everyone’s ok with the situation. Because Jason is the one who’s being chased by the demonic cat, Jason’s the one who’s sleeping in the attic!

… Ok. Maybe it’s not exactly the attic — it’s just a room far from every other —, and the cat does nothing more than sharpen its claws in his jackets. But it still sounds like hell. Three weeks from school vacation spent trying to understand how his life became this mess, and the only thing he knows is that the changes barely started; actually, he didn’t put too much effort to stay in the Manor, and doesn’t really know what the three other boys are doing there. He knows they’ll stay until the end of the last semester, specially Damian, but he doesn’t want to hear anything that goes beyond that. In the end, it doesn’t matter. It’s not as if he can kick them out (even if he kinda wants to).

He sighs, feeling his shoulders drop, his eyes glued to the pancakes in his plate.

_Jason hates pancakes._

**I**

Things start going wrong the moment Alfred will drive them to Arkham. Jason is used to always sitting by the passenger side, and that’s what he’s going to do, but Dick Grayson seems to have the same idea in mind, and they end up bumping on each other. Dick is confused, and Jason’s glaring at him. Damian gets closer, and Tim follows him, fighting to start a conversation. Both of them stop when they notice the nearly debate that hangs over the older ones. Todd tenses his shoulders, ready for a fight.

“The passenger’s seat is mine”. _It’s always been_.

The surprise in Dick’s eyes almost makes him snort. Almost.

“But I’m the oldest.”

It’s when Damian starts paying attention to the reasoning, interfering and abandoning Tim in the middle of the way to the car.

“I’ll take it.”

Jason’s not sure what’s the self control that stops him from laughing at the convict affirmation of the boy. He crosses his arms, and Damian stares at him in a way that makes it look like his height means nothing. Or his age. Or anything else.

“You don’t have enough height, brat.”

“It’s _my_ father’s car.”

“I’ve been with it for more time than you”.

Silence. Jason wasn’t talking about Bruce — _no one_ spends too much time with Bruce —, he was talking about the car, but of course he’s not going to explain it. Damian passes through him without saying anything more, Dick is still thunderstruck, looking at him — a little bit disapproving, too —, and Todd snarls any incoherent thing before following the boy inside the car. Grayson and Tim exchange glances and in what seems like a mutual agreement, Dick goes in the back with the other two and Drake is the one who gets the passenger side.

And then Jason is stuck between Damian and Dick, and he can’t believe what the heck his life is becoming.

**II**

It’s something like the third or fourth class, and Jason can’t stand the same never-ending jabbering. He finds a way to slink away from class, immediately sneaking around the corridors to the back of the Arkham; to the empty part of the place. A lot of gossip about the school being made in the mold of an asylum is always spread around, and Todd still isn’t sure whether it’s just a joke to scare the freshmen or the fragment of a truthful story poorly told. The mess of halls and classes that look a lot like prison cells — this all without even talking about the abandoned building at the back of the main one, that is where he’s heading to — seem to confirm everything. Jason likes how it gives credibility to the place, but he himself isn’t bothered by the rumour. Asylum or not, Jason knows Arkham like the back of his hand.

He’s not surprised for arriving to the last floor and finding Roy hanging on one of the windows. Roy Harper is something like the only person on Earth capable of making Todd stop for a moment or two to have fun instead of stress himself over the whole world. It’s Roy, instead of Jason, who usually finds something for both of them do when everything’s too confusing or annoying. Right now he can see the other cough once or twice before Harper turning to face him, a mischievous grin on his face, a cigarette in hands.

“Hey, Jaybird!”

Maybe at any other occasion — three or four years ago — Todd would find a way to scold him for it; Roy is still too young to buy a cigarette pack legally, which means he got a fake ID _or_ stole it. And Jason doesn’t care about it as much as he cares about the weird nickname. When he gets closer, the strong smell of nicotine makes him twitch his lips in a grimace. Roy laughs at him, offering the cigarette, eyes still shining in the mute challenge of questioning him about the origin of the thing. Todd decides to ignore him, accepting it.

“For how long you’ve been here?” it’s the question that escapes his mouth — maybe for the nuisance the smell causes him, his eyes glued to the white cylinder.

“I don’t know. Since I came, I think.” and Roy leans on his shoulder, his laugh making Jason’s body stumble for a moment. “Go on, Jaybird. It’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Tsc. I’m not your support.” he pushes him away, and takes the cigarette to his mouth. “And it’s _Jason_.”

The inexperience — and a bit of Roy’s wickedness for not having warned him, too — makes Todd take it off in a matter of seconds, lungs and throat burning, his eyes stinging and a horrible taste in his mouth while he bends his body, coughing to expel all traces of the smoke off of his organism. Harper is laughing loudly again, in the silent promise of tormenting him for the rest of his life for it. Jason wants to punch him — the furious stare denouncing his murderous intent — but Roy’s smile grows wider when he gets closer.

“Don’t be so hasty.” even though Roy’s reprimanding — and laughing at — him, there’s something soft at the way he leads Jason to one of the mats they borrowed from PE a few months ago. They get comfortable, but Todd still can’t control the coughing. Roy gives him encouraging pats on the back. “Take a deep breath, like this. Look, you have to put it in your mouth, pull _slowly_ , hold a bit, and then you let it out. Don’t try to pull and breathe at the same time, neither swallow, okay? Try again, Jaybird.”

Jason doesn’t want to try again — his lungs, neither — but the wounded pride stops him from going back. He inhales deeply, trying to get rid of the inconvenience of the choking. Then, when he exhales, he brings the cigarette back to his mouth. Now, he does just like Roy told him to; at the end of the gesture, smoke escapes his lips without him having to almost cough out his lungs for it. It’s a curious feeling, a burning, the muscles relaxing, a bitter taste in his tongue. Todd does again, just to conclude the discomfort isn’t worth the effect of the nicotine over his body. He gives the cigarette back to Roy, rubbing his throat to try and get off the irritation. Harper sighs all too dramatically, throws the cylinder on the ground and steps on it without hesitating.

“Your playboy face doesn’t hide anything, Jason. I knew you wouldn’t like it!” the malice returns to his eyes. “But that’s okay! We can always drown our sorrows in tequila.”

The phrase ends up making Todd smile minimally and shake his head. Roy has this sort of fixation for experiment everything that’s not recommended for people with their age; and he can’t really blame the other teen for end up always dragging him into this follies, because he knows the emotion of the thing lies in having company.

“Can’t you ask your brother to get it to us?”

“I don’t…” Jason stops, and then looks at Roy without hiding his confusion. “Brother?”

“Yeah.” Roy also looks a bit lost. “Tall guy, good looking, the one who came with you and the mini-Jasons with dark hair. Someone told me he’s your older brother.”

Todd has half a second to deal with his surprise before his brain starts catching up. Dick? _Dick Grayson_ , his brother?! It would be fun, if it wasn’t already insane — and, curiously or not, something in the idea makes him angry. Jason tights his lips in a thin line before muttering between teeth:

“Dick’s not my brother.”

Roy frowns.

“Really? But he looks a lot like...”

“He’s Bruce’s first adoptive son.”

Jason holds a mild tone on the last words to hide the bitterness and pretend Harper wouldn’t compare him to Dick — even though the similarities are, in fact, visible. Roy has the decency not to make any joke about it, because he knows family is a touchy subject to Todd, and that getting him riled up about it isn’t exactly a good idea. So he remains quiet, resigned, not sure about what he can do to end the heaviness that settled in the air around them.

And Jason knows he’s the one to blame — the discomfort, the silence, the absence of jokes.

Damn, he wants another cigarette.

**III**

Dick is tired. He rests his head between his hands, not really paying attention to the complicated trigonometric equations the teacher puts on the blackboard, even though his eyes are glued to it. He’s not sure if the discomfort that manifests under his skin is because of the boredom of knowing he’ll need to review some subjects he’s had already concluded on military school, or the fact that the Wayne Manor has new residents.

I mean, of course he knows of Bruce’s insane habit of go adopting boys randomly; he himself is a proof of it. It’s just a bit weird to think that now he has something like _brothers_ or… No. If he thinks better about it, Dick doesn’t like having companions, not that much. Maybe a bit because of jealousy, maybe because of being used to being alone, he’s not sure. The truth is, deep down, Grayson is uneasy with this changes.

He knows Tim from previous visits — even though the last time he saw him, Drake couldn’t be more than six years old —, and he knew about Jason thanks to Alfred and his correspondences, but Damian is still unknown. From the few times he had a conversation with Bruce, Dick never even heard him touch the subject. He’s always thought that Bruce was too busy to build a family from the start — wife, babies, this kind of thing — and that was why he went out “patronizing” every boy he found. And then comes Damian — and finishes the only belief Grayson had about the “forgotten humanity” of Bruce Wayne.

Dick doesn’t blame him for it, of course, the boy is like Jason and Tim to him; and maybe that’s exactly the problem. He doesn’t get bothered with strangers, because they’re always temporary; the three of them _shouldn’t_ be strangers because _they’re not_ temporary, but Grayson wants to get closer just as much as Jason wants to give up his place in the car, and it’s ridiculous. Dick never had problems relating with people, especially people close in age.

What’s the big deal about befriending the other boys?

Dick knows, of course he knows.

That’s why he’s angry.

**IV**

Damian already has his things neatly packed up inside his backpack when the last signal rings; then, while his classmates hurry to pack their things — including Drake — he’s calmly walking out the class. He doesn’t like how the gossips follow him, about _Wayne_ , _Bruce Wayne_ , _Grayson and his copies_. Because Dick is known by pretty much everyone, and nobody cares, _nobody really cares_ about what’s really going on, as long as there’s someone to gossip about.

The truth is that he doesn’t care about who spends or does not spend any time with Bruce — even if a part of him resents from the others because, c’mon, they’re in a place that’s _rightfully his_. He didn’t want to come, fifteen years is too much time to spent away from someone and still think about them the same way, but Mother was adamant, and he knows that right now it’s too late to go back.

He wants to sigh — or run away, who knows — when Drake joins him and the both find Dick at the gates of Arkham. Damian doesn’t like the idea of spending the rest of the year with any of them, but he knows that at least while they’re obligated to share the same ambient, living together must be the less confrontational possible; which means that taunts and barbs are absolutely out of the question.

Or at least that’s what he keeps telling himself while Alfred joins the three of them and they wait for Todd’s goodwill of coming.

And time goes by.

**V**

Tim thinks it’s funny how Todd and Wayne keep scowling on the back seat, both wearing the same expression, and Dick looks neutral, even though his tense shoulder show his irritation. Drake asks himself if it’s because he’s between the other two, or if Grayson is also mad at the fact they’re coming back to the manor almost twenty minutes later. Tim himself didn’t care he had to wait — it’s not like he had anything important to do, after all — but the boy Wayne makes it look like he did, which brought on another brief fight and, again, Drake was the one who got sent to the passenger seat.

“You stink cigarette.” it’s Wayne’s voice that breaks the silence in the car, his arms crossed, using the tone someone would to talk about the time.

Todd rolls his eyes and looks through the window.

“Get off me, brat.”

And there’s Tim, turning a bit so he can look at the three of them, which is a pity, because Dick sees his movement.

“Sit right, Tim.”

He lets out a snort — Todd and Wayne looking at him in curiosity —, and does as he’s told. He counts, one, two, three.

“I said it wasn’t a good idea to let him in the front.”

Tim peeks at them again — just in time to see Damian growl something and open his window while Dick mutters a _“Piss off, Jason”_ that surely will start another fight — and almost smiles.

Almost.


	2. . The discord milk carton .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, peeps! \o  
> I would like to thank you all for the feedback *u* (and also tell you all that for the purposes of this fic, Jason here has red hair, okay? Okay \o)

Jason concludes that the week of adaptation to scholarly habits of every one of the three is the worst week of his life. And it’s not because Dick’s up at five and a half in the morning to get the best bathroom of the house, because Damian steals the library every afternoon and lets his killer dog as guard, because Tim seems to be gravitationally attracted to his electronics bauble — dangerous and abandoned everywhere on the Manor —, or even because the demonic cat decided to settle his evil lair under his bed. Of course, that also counts; like having lost his best sneakers to the crazy dog that decided that hated him, like living with his clothes full of cat hair, and like having to explain to Alfred that the gauzes on Drake’s hand aren’t there because something of his exploded there. Truth is, Todd isn’t used to being around this much of people, especially in a place he’s considered so _intimate_ for almost his whole life.

Wherever he goes, Jason ends up being chased by the other boys’ presences. If he goes to the living room, he finds Tim sprawled all over the couch besides Dick, playing some game, or the younger one alone on the carpet, surrounded by little things and concentrated until the very last strand of hair in whatever it is that he’s doing with what used to be Todd’s favourite hobby. On the library, of course, the place only lacks the board “Property of Damian Wayne”, but at least of him Jason hasn’t much to complain about; if it wasn’t for the dog, the cat, and the stolen room, it wouldn’t even look like Damian’s in the Manor. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said about Tim, and even less about Dick. The _oh so noble_ Dick Grayson, that started timidly and suddenly has already changed the whole dynamic of the rooms he likes most. ‘It is to give more space’ was the forged excuse when Jason almost broken six-or-so vases for turning too quickly on some hall that used to have nothing but frames, and went to get his answers. Todd doesn’t agree with this whole idea of “space” of Dick, not at all, but he’s not going to give in and complain, because the house is Grayson’s too, after all.

_Gods_ , this house is Dick’s too. And Tim’s. Mainly, this house is Damian’s. It’s Saturday morning when the reality falls upon Jason like a bomb. He’s brushing his teeth, and when it happens, he chokes on the toothpaste. A long time after it — or maybe just some minutes, who knows —, when Todd has already spat every foam and washed his mouth to get rid of the burn on his tongue, he tries to digest the idea. _This_ is definitely the craziest thing that has ever happened with him since _always_ : he’s going to spend the rest of his life with those three.

Maybe he’s just being dramatic — Dick’s going to college next year, after all, and even he himself has just a year and a half of high school —, but even if that’s not the case, Todd already knows what awaits him: holidays, birthdays, everything being spent on the Wayne Manor on the most boring way possible, with Bruce not there and Alfred being the only happy person present. Jason quivers and swears to himself if that’s the case, he’s not ever, ever, ever again coming back to the Manor.

With an unhappy groan, Jason returns to his bedroom; just to find Alfred — _why the hell_ would someone name their cat after the butler? That’s what he asks himself every day after he heard Damian calling the thing this way — comfortably sprawled over the clothes he had left on his bed because he was going to use when he left. He and Jason stare at each other in a challenging way, and the teen knows the cat is ready to use its claws to make his hands a bloodied mess in the case he gets closer to catch his clothes. Todd still risks one or two steps, but the cat exposes its teeth on a growl, and he gives up.

Damn, damn, who cares if the little monster is making a nest out of his things? Jason grits his teeth and goes to his wardrobe. Rubs his nape in an attempt of getting rid of the tension while searching for something else to wear. He glances on last time to the cat, and then shakes his head in silent incredulity.

Great. Just what he needed.

**I**

Jason is again turning over the hall that was changed by Dick’s crazy dynamics, but instead of bumping on some very expensive vases, he finds himself face to face with Tim. Todd was kind of running, so it’s no surprise when Tim stumbles one or two steps backwards, almost dropping everything he has on his arms. Jason stares at him not being sure what to do, confused by the way how Drake does some malabarism to keep the little metallic balls within the reach of his hands. They seem familiar to him, someway, but he shakes off the thought. Of course they’re familiar, patches of what used to be his electronical junk — he’s not going to admit he’s a bit happy that they can be at least distracting to someone, not so soon.

“Look where you’re going, replacement.”

A lost expression — and maybe a bit alarmed — fills Tim’s face, and for a split seconds, Todd has the crazy mental image of himself messing up the boy’s hair before going his way; he pushes it away with a grumpy curl of lips. Not wanting to wait for an answer, Jason goes his way without sparing a second glance.

Drake doesn’t say anything, and he prefers it this way.

**II**

Damian is on the kitchen, looking through the fridge in search of Alfred’s milk when Titus approaches him. Wayne sees it from the corner of his eye because the dog is as silent as a ghost. He takes a moment to watch, noticing how Titus finds a place between the chairs of the little table and lies there, his attentive eyes to his owner, that stares back at him a bit tired.

Firstly, when his mother suggested, Damian didn’t like the idea of having a dog. He thought about everything that could go wrong: the pup could hate him, be disobedient, destroy his things or maybe the house. It ended up that Titus became the partner the boy never had, and that’s why Wayne knows the dog is just as bored as him with this whole situation; especially because he hasn’t been left free inside the Manor, and Damian took him on a walk through the city only the day he came to the place — it differs from Alfred, that goes and comes when he wants. Damian sighs and turns his attention back to the fridge.

Everything would be easier if he knew the city, but of course that he doesn’t; and he’s not going to ask help from any of his father’s adoptive sons, or even the butler. Damian’s working on it, he almost has Gotham’s map memorized in a week, give it a few days and he won’t need anyone else to walk around the city. He sends Titus one last glance, getting the milk carton from the fridge and closing the door, promising himself that he’ll get a leash and take the dog out as soon as possible. The Wayne Manor wasn’t designed to shelter animals, especially the big ones, and Damian knows that running a little will make good to the dog.

This is where he heads his thoughts while separating Alfred’s small bowl, but the musing is cut off for a low rabid yelp from Titus. Wayne turns back in time to see Drake coming through the door, playing with some silver ball. The other doesn’t seem to acknowledge his presence and Damian is ok with it, but his dog doesn’t seem any happier with the stranger’s sudden appearance, and when Tim approaches the fridge — and, therefore, Wayne —, Titus barks.

To Damian, it’s funny how the other boy is scared and throws the ball in his direction, turning to the dog as if he’s just seen an apparition. Then, he turns his attention to the small red lights flashing inside Alfred’s bowl, coming from the ball, but before he can take it out, Drake — suddenly conscious of his presence — launches himself against Damian.

“Don’t touch it!”

Few seconds go by between the moment the two of them fall of to the ground and the small explosion that throws milk and crockery pieces over the boys. Titus whimpers — certainly more affected by the noise than both of them —, Damian is petrified, but Tim’s got a face divided between total amazement and the most absurd admiration. He’s up in a jolt, his eyes glued on what is left of the sink where the crockery used to be, and then he starts to laugh. Wayne watches in disbelief, still shocked by what just happened, seriously doubting the boy’s sanity that goes through some small commemoration while chanting “ _It works, dude, it works!_ ”.

When it finally sinks, Damian sits, making Drake turn his attention to him because of the movement. Tim’s smile drops when he notices the other’s expression — the small grumpy clouds over his head. He at least has the decency to look ashamed, giving Wayne a quivery smile.

And Damian doesn’t want to blame him for the occurrence. Not because he knows it was an accident, sort of, cause by the scare. Of course, the fact that Drakes is walking around with _explosives_ doesn’t make any sense to him, but who’s Wayne to judge? At least that’s what he tries to convince himself of, and it almost works when, by a twist of fate — or maybe just bad luck, who knows — a sticky piece of something falls upon his head. Damian has a second or two of daze under Tim’s horrified gaze, and very carefully, he lifts his hand to take off whatever it is from his hair.

The milk remains over his skin are uncomfortable and suddenly, Wayne realizes that he’s covered in it, and that the unknown thing in his hand is a survivor and scorched piece of the milk carton. Almost at the same time that a disgusted expression makes its way on his face, he and Tim lift their eyes up to the ceiling, finding there the same thing that fell over Damian: small remainings of the explosion.

While they stare, another piece gets unstuck and plummets down over Bruce’s heir. Tim notices, already stepping back, that the wave of anger sweeps the other boy again. Wayne even tries to control himself — the wish to hit the other boy until his fists hurt —, but the effort makes his whole body shake.

“Look, I’m so‒”

“You have three seconds.” Damian gives him a poisonous glare. “One.”

Tim doesn’t need another warning.

**III**

Roy is almost glued to the TV screen, game controller in hands, apparently very concentrated in one of his favourite violent games. The truth? Even though he barely blinks and the way he moves his fingers, his mind isn’t on what he’s doing. Not for the first time on the last months, Harper is worried about Jason — about how he’s been disappearing too often, how he distracts with every and anything too easily now.

He knows Todd wouldn’t ever hid a problem from him; the same way he knows that doesn’t matter what’s happening, the other will tell him when he’s ready to tell. Because Jason was never the kind of person Roy can hug whenever he wants, and even though he’s never pushed him away aggressively when he did (when he still does, sometimes), Harper knows the other prefers just when he’s given an opening to.

He knows Jason trusts him.

And — damn — maybe that’s what worries him most.

**IV**

Dick is on the garden talking to Alfred about some time where he can find Bruce on free time for them to talk when he hears the explosion. For a second, he believes it was only in his mind, brows furrowing in confusion, but then he realizes he’s not the only one not understanding what is happening. He’s quick to push away the worries, running inside the Wayne Manor.

He knows Jason left not so long ago — Grayson saw him near the gates, and he supposes the other doesn’t think about coming back home this soon —, and this can only mean Damian and Tim are getting themselves in trouble. The thought is confirmed when, going through some hall inside the Manor, he stumbles upon Tim and both of them almost fall to the ground.

“Timothy! What are you…”

He doesn’t have time to end the sentence, because Drake is hanging on his shoulders, climbing him while talking something about milk and hair. Dick tries to take him off his body, and that’s when things get worse. Damian’s dog shows up being followed this close by its owner, jumping on his knee, barking, and the Wayne heir tries to get to Tim, apparently to murder him, not caring about hitting Grayson on the process.

“... did it on purpose…”

“... exploded the bowl…”

“... I didn’t want…”

“... because of Titus…”

“... it was Jason’s…”

“... and it fell on my hair!”

“ _Stop!_ ”

Silence. Dick has his hands in fists, his head aching, and three pairs of eyes staring at him in daze — even the _dog_ is quiet, what the hell. Grayson inhales deeply, fighting to keep calm. He needs a minute or two to get his control back, and then, slowly, relaxes his shoulders.

“Tim, down.”

“But the dog…”

“Damian.”

Maybe for the warning in his voice, his serious face or whatever, Bruce’s heir offers no resistance when calling back the dog, holding its leash with an unfriendly face. Tim doesn’t wait for a second order, letting go immediately — Dick’s shoulders hurt — and going to stand besides Damian.

It’s a bit curious how they stare at him in so different ways. Tim seems ashamed by the accident, and Wayne looks at Dick like challenging him to reprimand him for what’s just happened. Dick knows he’s in trouble with this two, and he sighs for the knowledge.

“Any of you can explain me, _please_ , what the hell just happened here?” for both their faces, Grayson can notice another argument is going to start if he doesn’t stop it. “One at time!”

The boys share a glance, and Damian’s the first to go, crossing his arms. Just now Dick realizes how both of them are grimy.

“Drake exploded the milk carton.” his eyes darken. “My pet's bowl too.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Tim is quick to answer, his face red, glancing at Grayson in plead. “The dog scared me.”

“And you were carrying an explosive!” Damian says in an angry version of Dick’s own thought. “What the hell were you going to do with that, kill us?!”

It’s a logic question. Grayson and Wayne stare at him, waiting for an answer. Tim murmurs something so low, none of them can hear him. Damian loses his cool.

“What?! I’m sorry, I was too busy not hearing a damn thing because of your…”

“I fixed it for Jason!” for a split second, even Bruce’s heir is too surprised to react to the information. “I didn’t think it would explode, right? Not all of his things do, some of them just shine and drop spark.”

“Why are you doing something to Todd?” Damian seems too busy dealing with his confusion to sound as angry as he always does. “He doesn’t even like you!”

Dick starts to finally understand it when Tim shrugs and looks up to the other boy. For a moment, he wants to ask them to stop talking about it — but he knows it’s going to be no use.

“I know.”

“So! You shouldn’t…”

“Ok, ok, enough.” Dick puts himself between the two, noticing that Damian is ready to pull Drake from his collar and shake him ferociously. “You both can go take a shower now, right?” seeing the way they look at each other, Grayson narrows his eyes. “Damian, no chasing anyone. Tim, don’t explode anything else. Are we good?”

While Bruce’s heir grumbles and goes away, again with his normal-day scowl, Timothy sends Dick a grateful smile, following soon on the same direction the other boy went. Dick waits for them to go, a weird feeling settling on his stomach, and then he sighs.

“Alfred? When Jason’s back, can you tell him to come talk to me?” he stares at the butler, that answers something along the lines of “ _Of course, Master Dick_ ” and goes away, probably to see what’s left of the kitchen, and Dick wants to ask how he can keep his cool with the four of them on the same house without going mad.

He shakes his head, not believing he’s going to have to babysit the other three.

How the hell is he going to stop them from killing each other?


End file.
